


Going, Going, Gone

by Wildlyaskew



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst, I'm sorry okay, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, John dies haha, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:34:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildlyaskew/pseuds/Wildlyaskew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is sick. Very sick. He may not quite make it, actually...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going, Going, Gone

John's been coughing a lot lately. I told him to see a doctor. But no. "Oh don't be silly Sherlock." "It's just a cold Sherlock." "I'm a doctor, I would know." He said I was being paranoid. He didn't listen. Now see where he'd gotten us. Here he was, sitting in his chair with his tea as usual. But one thing wasn't as it should be: John's little "cold" was something far worse. I don't even remember what it was. Funny. You may be wondering how the great Sherlock Holmes could forget, but I don't have an answer. I just don't know. 

I may have forgotten most everything else, but I do remember that conversation we had.  
"Funny. I'd always pictured myself dying nobly in some old war or something," John rasped. "Whod've thought John Watson, the brave soldier, would kick the bucket by some silly sickness!"  
"Well John, you're being an idiot again. You aren't dying. Not one bit, John. I forbid it." My voice grew frantic as I sat beside my heart's desire, watching him die. This couldn't happen. Just couldn't. Couldn't! No! I felt insanity gripping my mind and body. John's voice brought me back in its ray of light.  
"Sherlock, you need to accept this. I'm dying. You're strong, Sherlock. You'll be fine without me."  
"John Watson, I am not strong. I am cold. I send all my emotions into a corner of my mind; I hide myself. That isn't strong." John's breathing was becoming shallower, and I could see the color draining from his face. "Take my wrist, Sherlock. Feel my pulse." I complied. What else could I do? My John is going. Going away. Just going. Going slowly. Going. I almost felt my control going with him.  
"Sherlock." His voice snapped me back to attention once again. He sounded quieter, but somehow more urgent. "I need to say something, just one thing. Three words." My breath caught in my throat. Could he mean...? My question was answered as he wheezed in a final breath, and just barely whispering, John let out his words:

"I love you."

My face was numb. I didn't feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, my nose, my chin. My John. Going. Going. Gone.  
Gone. Forever. I chuckled. How? No, that's impossible! How could my John leave? I laughed. Insanity clawed at my skin and bones, my heart and soul. There was no voice to cling to this time. Why, I didn't even get to say goodbye. I couldn't tell him that I loved him too. Ha! That's not possible. And if it's not possible, it must not be real! I laughed cheerfully at my most brilliant deduction yet: this whole scenario was an illusion, a dream. I could just wake up! And how? By dying, of course! Why, I'm so brilliant! I take out my gun. It's loaded. As I place the barrel in my mouth, I have my final thought: THIS ISN'T REAL.

 

I pull the trigger.

 

 

It turns out, I was wrong. It was real. 

 

 

I'm with John now.

**Author's Note:**

> Well don't blame me, all I know is that I TRIED to write a nice happy fic of Sherlock nursing John back to health. It just kinda decided not to be like that. Oops.


End file.
